


Letters I'll Never Send

by orphan_account



Category: Smosh
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Sex, Letters, M/M, Sad, Teen Angst, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-16 13:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21508690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Over a year ago, Shayne fell in love with his best friend. Six months ago, he left the small he grew up in to find himself and become more than what everyone thought he could be. But he misses Damien more than anything. The letters are the only way he can talk to him, but they won’t ever be sent.
Relationships: Courtney Miller/Shayne Topp, Damien Haas/Shayne Topp
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	Letters I'll Never Send

**Author's Note:**

> this definitely isn't good, but i feel awful and used this to get some of that awfulness out. if you enjoy, i'm so sorry lol

_June 12_

Dear Damien,

I’m so sorry. I’m so so so fucking sorry. For everything that happened, everything I did. I just couldn’t do it anymore. It’s not your fault, nothing ever was. I just couldn’t see you every day and know I would never be what you are to me. 

Los Angeles is pretty. It smells like shit but it’s pretty. I like the palm trees, they remind me of staying at my grandparent’s in Florida. I told you about that a long time ago. You made lots of jokes, I just don’t remember what about.

I found a bunch of roommates to stay with. I’m the youngest, everybody else is above 18. Kind of makes me forget I’m only 17. They’re all very nice. I’m working on finding a job now. Thing is, most of the acting gigs need you to have some training, and training costs money. The other roommates are being nice about my rent until I get a job.

My mom and dad haven’t reached out. I guess that’s par for the course. Nobody from back home has either. I don’t care, they’re the reason I left in the first place. But not you. It was never you. 

I wish you had come with me. We could’ve been a dynamic duo, us against the world. Like those shitty movies where the teenagers do all this crap they couldn’t actually do in real life, but it works because they were in a movie universe? That could’ve been us. 

I have two job interviews in the morning, so I have to wrap this up. Wish me luck, if you can feel that I need it from where you are.

Love,

A Shitty Rom-Com Star

* * *

_August 28_

Dear Damien,

I haven’t written one of these in a while. I told myself I wouldn’t do it after the first one, but scraps of drafts kept piling up, and I kept burning them with the lighter Carrie gave me. She’s nice, you would like her. Smokes a lot of weed, but she’s really nice. She’s let me cry on her shoulder more than a few times. And smoke some of her weed. I would say I haven’t smoked a lot, but that would be lying. It’s legal here, and I turn 18 soon, so it won’t even matter. 

Work sucks. It sucks so much. Washing tables after drunk people spill all of their beer and food on them sucks. My manager is a complete asshole, and all my co-workers are even worse. Except Courtney. She’s pretty nice. She always checks in on me and asks how I’m doing. She’s younger than me, still in high school, but she’s basically the only friend I’ve got at this point. I guess I’ll take it. 

I know you’ve probably gotten your classes for this year already. I hope you’re doing everything you want, I’m sure you’ll do great. I hope that whatever the plays are this year, you get the lead, too. You’re a senior now, Hecox better give the good roles to you. You were always the best out of the whole drama class. I miss watching you monologue. I think I miss hearing you talk, too. I’ve been watching old videos from my phone just to hear the sound of your voice. I feel like I’ll forget it otherwise.

Love,

An aspiring stoner

* * *

_September 6_

Dear Damien,

I fucked up. I fucked up everything so badly. I’m such a failure, I’m such a fuckup. Everything is going wrong because of me and everybody hates me. I didn’t know what the pills were, I just took them and thought I was getting high. I woke up in an ambulance. I lost my job. My roommates want me to find somewhere else to live. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I stole Carrie’s weed. All of it. I smoked half of it already. I don’t even know if I can stand up now. I don’t know if I want to stand up again. I could just lay down and die and I’d be okay with it. I’m awful. I’m horrible. I don’t make anything better. I could go walk into the street and get hit by a car and I would let it happen. I just want everything to stop.

I don’t even know what happened. I don’t remember any of it. They were just sitting there, and I had a bad night at work, and I took them. 

I should’ve taken more. Then I wouldn’t need to be feeling this.

Love, 

A fucking failure addict

* * *

_September 14_

Dear Damien,

I think it’s technically the 15th now, but I don’t care. I’m 18 now, a full-ass adult.

I wish you were here to sing happy birthday. That would make everything less lonely.

I’ve been staying at Courtney’s ever since I overdosed. The second time it happened she stopped me before I could pass out. I must’ve been too loud opening the bottles. 

She’s really nice. She’s too nice. She’s too much of everything I can’t be. That I can’t have. 

She kissed me tonight. I didn’t stop her, but I wanted to. I wanted to tell her no, but I couldn’t. I just started crying, and she started kissing me more. It escalated quickly, and then everything was over.

Her parents came home to find her making food in the kitchen. She didn’t even act like anything was wrong. But everything is wrong, everything, everything, everything.

I started kissing her back. I don’t know why. It felt good, she felt good. It was like nothing was wrong for a few minutes, but then it all ended. 

It was nice. We talked about sex before, you and I. What it might be like, what scared us about it. I thought about it with you, I wanted my first time to be with you. But it wasn’t. It was with this sixteen-year-old I started living with because I overdosed on pills and was kicked out of the house I was staying in. She’s nice, she’s pretty, she’s this, she’s that. It was good, but I can’t stay here. I’m sitting on the roof now. She snuck into my room and tried to kiss me again after her parents were asleep. I told her I was tired. I was, but I couldn’t do it again. I can’t do it again. I can’t look at her again. I’m such an awful person. I’m such a horrible person. I let this go too far, I could have stopped her, stopped myself. But I didn’t. I’m leaving. I’m going as far away as the money I have can get me. It probably won’t be far, but at least far enough away that she won’t be able to find me. I need to leave this place. 

I wish I could run back to you.

Love,

No Longer a Virgin

* * *

_September 30_

Dear Damien,

This is the last letter I’m writing. I can’t do this anymore, I need to get over you. I need to get over everything. I just can’t do it anymore. 

I know you can’t see this, and you never will, because I’ll never send them, but I like to think that you can feel what’s happening. I used to say you were psychic, maybe it’s true after all.

I found a new place to stay. Two older guys, both pretty nice. Wes and Joven. His names actually Joshua, but everyone calls him Joven. I don’t question it, I’m just sleeping in their extra bed. 

Wes and I work together, he helped get me a job. It pays pretty well, actually. He also knows some stuff about acting, so I might be able to get some lessons with the money I make.

I dyed my hair. Wes helped me. It’s black now. I think you would like it. That or you would say I look like a vampire. Either work, because I’ll never know. You’ll probably never see it. Unless I get super famous all of a sudden, that would be crazy though.

I’ve gotten a bit better with the drugs. At least I have been for the past week. Wes used to be a drug counselor at a clinic so he’s been helping me cut down. They still let me smoke because it helps me calm down. Joven thinks I have anxiety or depression, Wes agrees with him. I can get a diagnosis though because I need my medical history or something. It’s weird. 

But yeah, this is probably the last letter I’ll write. At least I hope it is. I can’t keep doing this to myself. Wes found the last one and got really worried. As annoying as they are sometimes, they really look out for me.

Love,

Things Are Looking Up

* * *

_November 26_

Dear Damien,

Thanksgiving was yesterday. Wes and Joven had their friends over and I got to meet a few of them that I hadn’t before. We played video games after dinner and I got second place in Mario Kart, you trained me well. 

It feels empty without you still. I know I need to get over you, I’m sure you’ve moved on from me by now. Not that I was ever something you were into anyways. But leaving probably sucked. I wonder if the school did something. It’s not like I died, but I might as well have. 

I’ve been working a lot, on a lot of things. I saved up money to go see a public therapist, which I didn’t even know existed. Wes talked to her and she’s been seeing me since October. She said I definitely have depression. She doesn’t know about me leaving. I lied and said I was kicked out of my house for being gay. Wes and Joven know the truth though. She doesn’t need to know, I probably won’t see her for that long, to be honest. 

I booked an audition for a commercial, my big break. Wes and Joven are really excited for me, it’s kind of weird to be honest. If you see me on TV, I hope you know I’m saying hi from all the way across the country.

Love,

Mario Kart Master

* * *

_December 18_

Dear Damien,

I’m thinking about coming back. Christmas just won’t be the same without you, without the snow. I told Wes and Joven, and they said they would come with me. I’m still deciding though. I don’t think I can see you, or anybody back there. I stopped saying home a few months ago, I feel like I’ve got a new home here. Still, I miss you. I miss your laugh, your smile. Everything about you. It hurts. On your birthday I thought about calling you, but I stopped myself. That wouldn’t be fair to you. That’s why I can’t see you if I go back too. It just wouldn’t be fair to you.

The money from the commercial helped a lot. I’m thinking about taking some classes to finish my diploma once I have enough money. But that probably won’t be for a while. At this point, you’ve probably already applied to colleges. I don’t even know what you’re thinking about majoring in. That really sucks. I miss you. Sometimes I wish I had the balls to send these letters just to let you know what’s going on. Just so there was some chance that I would hear back from you. I know it won’t happen, but I just wish. It is too optimistic to wish for that?

Love,

Wishful Thinker

* * *

_December 21_

Dear Damien,

We’re leaving tomorrow. I already packed up my stuff (it’s not much). I’m both excited and really fucking scared. I don’t want to see anybody from back there, at least that’s what I’m telling myself. I know there’s one person I would want to see, but there’s no way in hell they would want to see me. I just have to accept that.

Wes and Joven are excited to see all the touristy stuff. We have a whole day set aside to go to Rockefeller Center to see the tree. I remember we went there together when we were younger, it was really fun. You mentioned wanting to do that again way back when. Maybe by some luck we’ll see each other again, but I know that probably won’t happen. 

I don’t even know what I would do if I saw you again. I don’t know what you would do if you saw me. If you punched me, I think that would be the least harm you could do. You could beat the shit out of me if you wanted, I definitely deserve it.

Maybe we would just stare at each other speechless, then run up and hug each other so tight you feel your back crack and your chest starts to hurt. Maybe you would kiss me, will every minute you missed me coming across your lips. But that’s a movie-scene dream. That would never happen in real life. Right?

Love, 

The Christmas Elf


End file.
